


Wishes on a Distant Planet

by lazymilk



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Romance, Boys In Love, Cheesy, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Sappy, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazymilk/pseuds/lazymilk
Summary: In which Iwaizumi and Oikawa are incapable of expressing the feelings they have for one another, but after news of the setter’s plans to move abroad come to light, the two are forced to jump past hurdles of hesitation and uncertainty in order to convey the name of that feeling in the fleeting moments they have left together.(This work is on an indefinite hiatus)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	1. Earth

**_"Do you think we’ll ever get to meet an alien one day, Iwa-chan?"_ **

The high-pitched squeaks of _Mizunos_ and _Asics_ echoed across the Seijō High Gymnasium; the constant aggressive impact of landing before immediately sprinting back—knees bent and forearms outstretched in ready position—created an endless cycle of friction and body heat. Only when the ball hit the ground were the teams able to catch their breath for a mere few seconds.

“Rotate!”

An excited yet inexperienced underclassman from the opposing team quickly grabbed the volleyball before smacking it against the ground and lightly spinning it into the air for good measure as he walked behind the end-line.

The brunette captain on the opposite side of the net adorned a loose smile contrasted by the intensity of his pupils as he looked around at his teammates and hand-signed the corresponding set he would play.

All eyes watched the player closely as the server took his first steps forward, tossed the ball high into the air, jumped, and swung his arm to reach contact—all in one continuous momentum while never leaving sight of the ball’s trajectory over the net.

_10.00…_

“DEEP!”

_9.00…_

“MINE!”

_8.00…_

The brunette effortlessly tossed a back set to his right-side hitter.

_7.00…_

Aimed at a clear opening on the other side of the net, the hard spike broke through the block.

_6.00…_

The libero on the opposing team ferociously dived to save the ball, managing to pass it well over the net.

_5.00…_

“FREE BALL!”

_4.00…_

“MINE!”

_3.00…_

Although making eye contact with his right-side hitter, the team captain feigned a set towards the other’s side as he lightly pushed the ball with the pads of his fingers just above the net, effectively dumping it over.

_2.00…_

The entire court held its breath—waiting in anticipation for the loud smack of leather against the gym floor.

_1.00…_

_0.00…_

**_“Don’t be dumb, Oikawa. Of course we will. In fact, I’m looking at an ugly one right in front of me.”_ **

As the blaring buzz of the scoreboard rang through his ears, beads of sweat cascaded down Oikawa’s face and either slipped underneath his turquoise jersey or fell to their death between his volleyball shoes.

He took a deep breath while stretching his arms and adjusting his knee pads, “Okay, guys! That concludes today’s practice! Nice work, as always!”

“Hey, Oikawa-senpai, that game was no fair in any way whatsoever!” the underclassman who had just served complained, “Next time, you’re definitely gonna be on my team!”

“Yeah, well, I guess I just can’t help being so popu—”

Strands of chestnut hair abruptly fell over Oikawa’s eyes as a familiar calloused hand slapped his head from behind.

“Oi, shut up, good-for-nothing-narcissist—”

“Hey, Iwa-chan, what gives? That hurt,” the brunette whined.

Iwaizumi's scowl deepened, “Good, it was meant to.”

The rest of the players began to break down the nets and pick up the remaining volleyballs littered across the gym as the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor was replaced with the usual banter between their captain and vice captain.

“You’re just a sore loser who’s jealous because your team didn’t win, and every team I’m on always wins—” Oikawa muttered.

“Huh, what was that?”

“Oh, is Iwaizumi’s gorilla ears failing him now?”

“I swear—I don’t know how I’ve kept up with you for this long—”

“We’re about to graduate, Iwa-chan. We’re seniors—practically adults now, so you can’t keep treating me like this—you know what, that’s an order from your captain!”

“Well, I would if you could stop acting like a child all the time.”

“Hey—”

“ _Ahem_.”

The two quickly looked up to see the head coach’s judgeful eyes as he sighed deeply in disappointment.

“I see the team can do just fine looking after themselves once you two leave.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa looked around to see most of the equipment had been neatly put away and over half the players had already left the gym in search of a place to eat out before heading home.

“Ah, my apologies, Coach. Oikawa and I will make sure to close up the gym before we leave,” Iwaizumi formally addressed.

“Yes, good work, as usual. Oh, don’t forget to see me tomorrow to discuss your future plans, as well.”

“Of course!”

“Will do!”

“I look forward to hearing from you two, and you especially, Oikawa,” the head coach turned towards his much accomplished athlete.

He paused briefly before waving his aged hand, “Keep up the good work, and have a good night!”

After seeing Coach Irihata out, Iwaizumi shut his eyes and released an exasperated sigh before his thoughts were interrupted with the sound of a lone volleyball repeatedly being spiked against a wall.

_Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump —_

The sound came to a sudden halt.

“Iwa-chan!”

He turned around to see Oikawa on the opposite side of the gym holding a stray volleyball, that had forgotten to be put up, between his arm and hip.

“Come on, let’s pepper!” The boy tilted his head.

Iwaizumi quickly turned away, ignoring the setter, while striding over to grab his water bottle that was left on the front bleacher; leaning his head back to take in greedy gulps, he felt the cold chill of water mix with perspiration as rivets slowly slid down his chin.

“I know you’re ignoring me, Iwa-chan!!”

As he felt the last drop of water coat his tongue, the hitter’s grip tightened around the bottle.

“Tsk, shouldn’t we be getting ready to leave?!”

_Thump… Thump… Thump…_

Beginning to smack the ball against the ground impatiently, Oikawa’s gaze attempted to bore holes into his childhood friend’s back.

“You know I can’t leave just yet!”

_Thump… Thump…_

Finally turning around, Iwaizumi placed his water bottle back down before starting to make his way towards the other.

“But…” Iwaizumi began.

_Thump… Thump… Thump…_

His pace hastened to a sprint, and he reached the boy still hitting the poor ball in a drone-like monotonous rhythm.

“... I can!” Iwaizumi yelled as he swiped it away from the other’s hands.

**_“Hey, Iwa-chan! That wasn’t a very nice thing for you to say, you bully.”_ **

“Hey!”

“We. Are. Done. Here. Oikawa,” his words dripped with venom. 

Iwaizumi emphasized each syllable while briskly walking away, volleyball in hand, towards the storage closet. However, a hand from behind sharply grabbed his shoulder, making him come to an abrupt stop.

“Wait a second, what gives? It’ll just be for a few minutes, besides—think of it as our cool down stretches, alright?”

The ace’s mouth opened before closing, lips forming a tight line as his dark eyebrows scrunched together, and his mind tried to process any opposition; he huffed and mindlessly turned the ball over in his rough hands but ultimately knew he had a weak spot for his friend's pleading looks—although he’d never acknowledge it out loud. 

“Ugh, yeah, whatever, fine… if it’s just for a ‘few minutes’ though, okay?”

“See, you know I’m always—”

“Before I change my mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah.”

“You are so insufferable.”

The two third-year athletes made their way towards the center of the gym before separating a few feet apart. Holding the ball with both hands now, Iwaizumi lightly tossed it straight into the air before bumping it towards Oikawa with his forearms.

Bump, set, spike. Bump, set, spike. Set, spike, bump.

Both immediately fell into a natural cadence as words were no longer spoken but were instead expressed through the calculated footwork, as if the two were following a dance routine... through the intense gaze that never left the ball, as if starving predators stalking their prey... through the deep inhale and exhale of tired breaths, as if climbers on a mountain expedition... and through the harsh contact of leather against flesh, as if a whip on a horse…

The two continued their competitive display of experience—moving together as one fluid body. No words were needed to communicate between them as each knew exactly what the other’s next move, next step, and next thought would be.

Iwaizumi’s calculating and unwavering hits paired together with Oikawa’s lopsided smirk and fierce power….

Together, they were unstoppable.

“Oikawa, don’t lie to me…”

Oikawa’s knee suddenly began to throb against his knee pad.

“About your future plans…”

Set, spike, bump.

“... You’re going overseas, aren’t you?”

Right before Oikawa could release the ball from his set, his fingers twitched, causing him to falter for a single millisecond. Iwaizumi lunged to save the ball, worn-down knee pads barely scraping against the gym floor, but before the ball could touch the ground, it was immediately back up.

“Oika—”

“Yeah.”

_Thump… Thump… Thump…_

Oikawa swallowed hard and licked his chapped lips as the gym lights seemed to shine glaringly bright all of a sudden; nevertheless, the silent rally continued.

_Thump… Thump…_

“So—”

“Argentina.”

This time, it was Iwaizumi’s turn to miss the ball. The two players watched as the ball came into contact with the ground. It was officially dead.

“Ah, my bad,” Iwaizumi sheepishly voiced out loud.

Although he turned to look towards Oikawa, whose light-brown eyes were still staring at the ball rolling across the gym, he didn’t want to hear anymore. He knew they were bound to separate, but he had only wished the rumors of his childhood friend playing abroad were nothing more than that, rumors, but he also knew it was something ambitious enough for the teen to do.

“I’m going to play in Argentina.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Iwaizumi reluctantly jogged across the gym to catch up to the volleyball.

“I have only three days after graduation until I leave—”

The vice-captain began to feel his face grow hotter and slowed down; he felt his chest tighten.

“Tsk, I mean, I know I always call you a player but wow—Argentina? Are you trying to date the next Miss Universe or something?" Iwaizumi whistled, “To be honest, they might even be out of your league…”

“Iwa—”

“Don’t get me wrong, Argentina sounds perfect for you…”

“Iwa-cha—”

“Warm weather, beaches— oh, do you even know how to speak Spanish? While you're at it, maybe you’ll even learn how to tango, ha!”

“Iw—”

“Oh, and isn’t Argentina where that setter you’ve been obsessing over since elementary school lives? What’s his name again? George Blanche? Joseph Blue? José Blanco?”

 **“** HAJIME! **”**

Iwaizumi quickly turned around towards the setter as his name reverberated throughout the high-ceiling.

In the distance, some meters away, Oikawa silently stood at the center of the gym, staring directly at the wing-hitter with a flurry of incomprehensible emotions passing through his eyes. Iwaizumi felt an unwelcome chill go down his spine. He was well familiar with the appearance; it was a look Oikawa always attempted to hide behind a forced smile after losing a match against Shiratorizawa—against Ushijima—a look of anger, hurt, and exhaustion.

Drenched in sweat with his face flushed, Oikawa exhaled a tired breath, as if releasing his last, and softly muttered, “I’ll be on the complete other side of the globe, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi bent his head downward as he turned his gaze towards his shoelace. The pregnant silence became unbearable, so he picked up the lone ball and walked it back into the storage room.

After fumbling to slip off his knee pads, Oikawa went into the locker room to pack his gym bag and turned on the sink, allowing cool water to flow over the tender, yet calloused, red palms of his hands before splashing water onto his face.

**_“Oh, but Iwa-chan! If I — **n** o—when’ I go to space, I’ll make sure to bring back a real alien friend for you to meet!”_ **

A sudden shiver shook his body as icy water ran down his neck while he pushed his wet and unruly hair back; he looked into the mirror before slapping himself hard on the cheeks.

**_“But won’t you become lonely in space?”_ **

He went back into the gym to find Iwaizumi waiting for him.

_Thump… Thump… Thump…_

Both attempted to wave away the awkward tension blanketing the atmosphere.

“Let’s close up, it’s getting late, Shittykawa. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

_Thump… Thump…_

Plastering a fake, toothy grin in an attempt to make things "normal" again, Oikawa jokingly replied, “Sure thing, Boss.”

“Ugh, just shut up.”

The two made sure to turn off the gym lights and locked the doors before walking into the crisp, spring evening; trees swayed to the soothing chirps of crickets in the distance.

_Thump.. Thump.. Thump…_

Oikawa’s wandering eyes were drawn up to the pale, milky disk surrounded by the white splatters of paint across the dark sky. He carefully noticed how the soft light illuminated his friend’s sharp features, a juxtaposition—just like them.

_Thump… Thump…_

And he couldn't help but realize his heart pounding in his chest, that had once been muted by the deep sound of a force coming into contact with a volleyball, was now deafening his ears while just in the company of his ace.

**_“Well, that’s easy. I’ll just pick a star and name it after you. So, it's like I’m talking to Iwa-chan!”_ **

Oikawa closed his eyes as he desperately tried to burn the feeling into his memory.

**_"Hey, but don't forget to come visit me on Earth, too!"_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! 
> 
> Although I've been a guest reading different works on this site for a while now, this is actually my first time publishing a fanfiction, so feel free to leave a comment, and constructive criticism is much welcomed!  
> It's also been a hot second since I've last watched Haikyuu!! and played volleyball so I hope all the technical jargon makes (somewhat) sense.  
> I'm not too sure what my writing schedule will be like—but until we meet again in the next chapter... 
> 
> Signing off,  
> Lazymilk ʕ￫ᴥ￩ ʔ


	2. Mars

Oikawa couldn’t focus. 

Fiddling with his blackened _mono_ eraser between his fingers, the young man stared at a tiny point in the back of the classroom situated just next to the window and above the clock—a point that seemed to suck the attention out of its victims like an invisible intruder, like a vampire…like a black hole.

“...So, as another reminder, the end-of-year-exams…”

Senses focusing in and out of reality, he started to feel as if a million minuscule needles were stabbing his foot as they started to fall asleep.

“...And that also includes limits, differentiation, anti-derivatives…”

He wiggled his toes against his black loafers. 

Oikawa's mind began to wander, thinking of nothing in particular as the low drone of his teacher’s voice, the staccato metronome of the classroom clock, and the deafening roar of blood coursing through his veins filled his surroundings before he closed his eyes and was aggressively shoved back… 

He’s seated in the head coach's office. 

…Specifically, one hour back. 

-

“Now I know you’ve probably heard this many times before, but I’ll say it again: you’re a bright, well-rounded student, you’ve maintained your academic studies very well, and to top it all off, you’ve got yourself a little reputation as a star-athlete.”

The energetic pupil chuckled to himself as he brought his hand up and shyly ruffled the brown locks at the back of his head. 

“Thanks, Coach Irihata…for everything.”

The head coach waved his hand in dismissal. 

“I know you’ve come to me before to discuss your fair share of doubts about continuing this sport… ”

Oikawa became more self-conscious as the older man's eyes sharpened. 

“...But I also know you’ve been keeping in touch with Coach Blanco, and let’s be real here,”

Coach Irihata straightened his posture against his large office chair and leaned forward—ignoring the clutter of folders, papers, and pens on his varnished, mahogany desk, 

“You’re no quitter, Oikawa.”

“...”

The other found himself staring at steel, grey eyes—tracing all the wrinkles and strands of white hair he could see through his peripheral vision; he never noticed until now how many more creases there were since he was recruited by the coach himself and had first entered the prestigious high school—he never noticed until now how much… _older_ the man looked. 

“And, you know, after all my years of watching you play and mature—not just as a setter, but as a person—there’s one thing that has always remained constant: that fire in your eyes. That determination to win. That thirst for _victory_...I've only seen very few athletes in my lifetime display that same drive you have.”

The older man sighed before leaning back into his plush chair and picked up a slip of paper from his desk to read.

“But, I’m sure you’ve heard the news about José, and how he’s moved back to Argentina.”

The usually talkative student remained silent, waiting for the other to continue.

“I guess all I’m trying to say is that you should go wherever you want." He remarked while not looking up from his student's career form, "You’ve carried the team far enough; no one will be holding you back, I’ll make sure of that. And don’t think, for one second, that you’ll be leaving anything behind, so keep your eyes forward on the ball.”

Oikawa couldn’t help but feel himself practically glowing as the weight of stress on his shoulders lightened. The setter quickly and abruptly stood up from his chair and gleamed, now displaying a childish grin and an intimidating fierceness in his eyes that could easily rival that of a lion. The sudden movement caused the coach to look up—eyebrows raised in amusement. 

“Coach, you’ve brought me this far, I won’t let you down… ‘promise.”

No longer feeling insecure or hesitant, he stuck out his hand and firmly shook the other’s. 

“...Shortly from now, you’ll be seeing me on the world stage. So, you better not forget my name."

"How could I?" Coach Irihata whispered to himself, and he let out a boisterous, belly shaking laugh while his pupil moved to pick up his belongings and grab the door knob—

“Tōru!”

Oikawa turned his head around in surprise at being addressed by his first name.

“Thank you for letting me be your coach. I truly enjoyed every second of it, _number one_ . 

Oikawa took one last glimpse around the office, eyes briefly hovering over each medal, each trophy, each plaque, and each team picture, noticing how barely any had built up dust. He felt a soft smile creep up on his face and gently closed the door behind him, separating him from the one who he grew up to see as his own father-figure. 

A familiar wetness slid down his cheeks. His breath started to become shorter as he briskly made his way to the nearest restroom before uncontrollable hiccups began to rack against his chest. 

He quietly shut the stall… 

-

“Oikawa-san! Are you with us?”

The athlete felt himself snap back into the present—blinking hard from the blinding classroom lights.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry…”

He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, pinching his nose bridge as he mumbled in acknowledgement, “...end-of-year-exam review.”

The teacher eyed the student with concern, but after deciding to disregard the interruption, resumed class.

Oikawa placed his glasses back on before picking up his red, mechanical pencil, and gave it a few clicks before beginning to write down all the notes he had missed on a clean page of his worned-down notebook… 

-

“So, like I was saying, _Argentina_?”

The brunette stared at his onigiri, feigning deep contemplation, before shoving the entire snack into his mouth while making obnoxious chewing noises. Two students now sat on an oak bench in the school courtyard, overlooking a quaint field near the left wing building. 

With his mouth still full of rice and seaweed, the setter playfully pouted and whined, “Why, does it not suit me?”

Iwaizumi’s face contorted into one full of disgust, “Ugh, hasn’t anyone taught you to not talk with your mouth full?”

Oikawa released a small laugh, but in doing so spit out grains of sticky rice that stuck themselves onto his friend's pristine blazer, said friend immediately jumped up and aggressively swatted the rice off while yelling,

“Shit, you pig!”

Iwaizumi’s tantrum only served to make Oikawa collapse into a fit of hysteria until he felt a large chunk of the rice ball block his air-pipe; he quickly began to choke, spitting rice everywhere to the hitter's dismay. 

“Shut your goddamn mouth will ya! Fuck—”

The spiker violently slapped the other on the back as if it were a volleyball. 

“I-ow- I- I- can’t- breathe—” Oikawa struggled to coherently voice.

The setter clutched his knees and wheezed as he took in gulps of air.

Realizing the two were making quite the scene, they both tried to collect themselves—Iwaizumi’s face still displaying immense annoyance and distress while Oikawa’s was beet-red and tears pooled at his eyes and threatened to escape. 

Now looming over the other, Iwaizumi handed his carton of milk which Oikawa gladly accepted and thirstily chugged down. 

“Hey, hey, don’t drink all of it!”

Feeling quenched, the brunette exhaled loudly in satisfaction and handed back the half-empty carton. 

“Iwaizumi,” he called out in a mock-serious tone, “I want you to know that if I ever start to drown, don’t try to give me CPR. You’d just be wasting your time since I’d die either way.”

The sarcastic comment earned him a hard punch on the shoulder. 

Iwaizumi began to sit back down on the bench before he noticed a barely-visible film of pollen veiling the wood; twitching his nose, he decided to just stand. 

“You didn't answer my question yet," he tried bringing the conversation back from straying away.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

The hitter started to casually pace in front of his friend.

“I guess…” he hesitated, “like where you’re staying, what team you’re playing on, how long you’d be staying there—”

“I’ve been apartment searching, I got accepted into the Argentine League, but I’m undecided on how long I’ll be living there—I’m thinking at least a good number of years, or at least until I’ve met my goal,” the athlete responded without missing a beat.

Iwaizumi stopped in front of Oikawa and looked down, meeting warm eyes. 

“So, you’ve already been planning for this, huh?” he quietly asked, although more to himself.

Oikawa stood up and nonchalantly stretched his arms above his head, failing to notice the other’s change in demeanor as he walked past to throw away his scraps.

“Ya know, when you’re planning to move overseas, you sorta have to plan for these things ahead of time, _Iwa-Chan_.”

Still standing in place, Iwaizumi called out, “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand?”

Oikawa stopped walking—the back of his head still turned to his friend; his arms heavily dropped to his side as he struggled to find an explanation he himself didn’t know or understand why.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d even get in—” he started.

“Bullshit.”

Oikawa felt himself tense as the air began to sour. 

“Don’t give me that crap as an excuse. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Oikawa refused to turn around and instead stared at the untied shoelace on his left, black uniform shoe.

“Uh, we were both busy and there was just never a good time to bring it up—”

“The season’s over, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi emphasized.

“Yeah, well one of us likes to prepare for his exams—”

The black-haired student scoffed, “That’s not a good enough answer.”

Feeling like a rabbit losing his options to escape from being cornered, Oikawa let out a sigh in disbelief, “Wha-What do you mean? Okay, now you’re just attacking me.”

Iwaizumi took a few, calculated steps towards the other, as if he really was the hunter, “We have ONE week until graduation, and then—apparently—THREE days before you hop on a plane and go ‘ _bye-bye_ ,’ so if you don’t spit out the truth, I swear to God—”

No longer able to hide his fear and irritation, Oikawa retorted back, “WHAT?! HUH? What will you do if I don’t tell?!”

Iwaizumi was at his limits, but he refrained himself from yelling any further, remembering the unwanted attention the two were bringing to themselves, and composed himself before speaking in a much softer tone,

“Oikawa, we’ve been friends for how long? Practically our whole lives. I want to know that you trust me enough to tell me things like this, especially when it involves us possibly never seeing each other again for ‘ _at least a good number of years_ ;’ I don’t like to be kept in the dark,” he paused while awkwardly scratching his head, “can’t you do that for me, _Tōru_?” He took a step forward.

“— _you —_”

All Iwaizumi could hear was indecipherable muttering from the other teen; he cautiously took another step forward. 

“What was that?”

Oikawa finally whipped his head around, revealing eyes welling up with tears, right knee trembling like a newborn doe just out of its mother’s womb, and cheeks stained a dark rouge, “You think I want to leave everything behind, Hajime, just like that?! You think I want to-to-to leave _you_?!”

He was now shaking and stuttering like a mess. Not needing to think about what to do next, Iwaizumi took the last few steps forward to close the distance between them before grabbing the boy and tightly wrapping his arms around him; he felt his shoulder begin to dampen as his own eyes started to burn and his mouth became parched. 

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this._

Silent sobs shook the setter’s body; a rare sight contrasting his reputable image of strength and agility on court. 

“Ca-can we-e go- go somewhere else, _pl-please?_ ” Oikawa’s strained voice was muffled by his mouth being full of fabric, but he dared not show such a sight of vulnerability in front of anyone else other than the spiker. 

Remaining silent, Iwaizumi patiently guided his friend to a secluded area behind the school’s building. 

Oikawa attempted to brush away the tears as he rubbed his face with the back of his hands, more harshly than intended, making his eyes raw. He cast his head downward as if coming down from a bad high and was now simply left with the bitter aftertaste of shame and regret. 

“I was just scared of what you’d say, _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa whispered through hiccups. 

“Tōru, I—”

Iwaizumi was interrupted by a faint chime that could be heard off in the distance of the school bell ringing to announce the end of lunch. He shifted his weight between each leg as he hesitated before the teen who was still trying to clutch on to any sense of dignity he had left. 

He swallowed hard and opened his mouth, 

“H—”

“HEY! Oikawa! Iwaizumi! Is that you?!”

Iwaizumi momenterly turned around from Oikawa in order to face the direction of a familiar voice; his eyes squinted from the sun that seemed to scorn them for arguing so loud, but he could only make out a tall, lanky figure bearing unkempt, dark brown hair.

“Matsukawa?!” He yelled back. 

“Yeah! What are you two doing? Hurry up and get to class before you get your asses beat!” the taller student warned.

Oikawa turned his head towards the brick wall, attempting to avoid eye contact despite Iwaizumi already blocking most of his body from Matsukawa’s sight and them being meters away from the middle blocker. 

He sniffed and cleared his throat, trying to sound as if he hadn’t just been crying, “We were just about to leave—”

“Oikawa scraped his knee again,” Iwaizumi nervously interjected back a lie.

“Oi, stop it,” the setter muttered. 

Matsukawa suspiciously eyed the two, noting that their belongings were still in the school courtyard, but decided to hold the thought for another time.

“Whatever,” the teammate adjusted his schoolbag and waved at the two before jogging back to class.

The ace exhaled deeply, causing his shoulders to rise and fall, and turned back to face the other, 

“Uhm—” 

For the second time, Oikawa brushed past him and spoke in a voice that sounded as if it could cut iron but also break from a single wisp of feather, “He’s right, we should make our way back to class before people start forming any ideas of us becoming delinquents before the end of our school year.”

Iwaizumi felt his head grow heavy as a wave of new emotions came crashing over him; he was at a scene of a murder—death by drowning—and he was the victim. His chest ached as he struggled to pinpoint and place a name to any single feeling until he finally settled for one, he felt… _dejected_. 

He looked ahead at the boy who was now a few feet away from him, the distance between them slowly but surely continuing to increase once more. Iwaizumi didn’t budge, didn’t move, didn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, felt he didn’t deserve to—

Although barely noticeable, and what would be easily overlooked by others, Iwaizumi noticed the slightest limp in the brunette's stride. Mirroring all the times where he put on a mask in front of the team, Oikawa was pushing himself away again in what Iwaizumi could only call a lonely isolation.

“Tōru, I’m sorr—”

“No.” Oikawa abruptly cut him off. 

The setter stopped in his tracks, turned around, and stormed his way back as if caught in a sudden rush of adrenaline. There was no longer any sign of fragility that could be seen in those wild eyes.

“You don’t get to do that.”

“Wha—”

“The day you apologize is the day I die,” he seethed, ‘ _We’ve been friends for, how long?_ ’ he quoted while continuing in a raged tone, “We don’t do that. We don’t need that—I don’t need that. You get on my nerves, I get on your nerves, we argue, we fight—we fight really bad—but then we come back stronger,” his voice was getting more desperate, as if trying to convince himself. 

Oikawa lightly shoved the other on the shoulder he had just been crying on, he pulled his hand away, observing the snot that now smeared his palm, and looked at the other apologetically, “besides… it was my fault. I know I should have told you, and now look at where we are,” he gestured while quietly laughing to himself. Their faces were now simply a mere, few centimeters apart.

“So, don’t do that—don’t do what I just did. Don’t be… _weak —_”

“You’re not.” Iwaizumi, who had been silently listening, maintained a stoic expression on his face; he breathed in and out of his nose, trying to calm himself and to hide the fact that his heart was palpitating a hundred beats a second. 

Oikawa leaned in even closer, until they were just millimeters away from touching noses, and stared deeply into the ace’s cool, grey eyes. What was only a few seconds felt like a life-long minute as a high-pitched chirp of a crow nearby fell in between the gap. He sharply and swiftly blew into the other’s eyes before pulling away and slicing through the tension with immature bouts of chuckles. 

Oikawa needed to escape from the tension; he needed to destroy the unease and replace it with normalcy, and he only knew how to do so by smiling as if nothing had occurred between the two.

“Shit—” Iwaizumi’s eyes tightly closed as he thoroughly rubbed them. He opened his eyes to witness the other teen tripping over his still-untied shoelace. 

Looking down at his friend who was struggling to pick himself up, he felt a smile bloom across his face and sighed in relief from no longer feeling trapped and suffocated, but the lingering feeling of doubt was inexcusable. 

“Hey,” he finally spoke up, hoping that his guess of Oikawa wanting to change the subject was correct, and he brought up a more light-hearted question, “do you want to go to the arcade after exams are over?”

Oikawa eventually picked himself up as he brushed off the dirt from his uniform, but to no avail as light, tan marks now decorated the once-white blazer. Iwaizumi patiently waited for a response. 

“I’ll do you one better, wanna go to the _beach_?” A large grin was plastered on Oikawa’s face. 

Before Iwaizumi could reply, the final chime signalling the start of class echoed across the campus.

“Shit!”

“Fuck!”

“We are so dead!”

The two athletes scrambled to grab their bags and sprinted towards the nearest entrance into the building. 

There was one question Iwaizumi knew Oikawa would never truthfully answer, but his conscience demanded him to get it out of his system anyway, “Hey, Oikawa!” 

“Hmm?”

“How’s the knee? I noticed you were limping just earlier—”

Oikawa turned towards his partner and raised his eyebrows as if the answer was obvious, but they both knew there was more to it that wasn’t ready to be discussed just yet, “Oh, that was just my shoelace, dummy!” His eyes conveyed a simple message to drop it. 

Feeling defeated and not wanting to create an even stronger barrier between them again, Iwaizumi decided to shrug it off and picked up his pace as he exclaimed without looking back, “And, we should do that, you know, go to the beach!”

Oikawa sprinted forward, gaining speed until he was in front of Iwaizumi, and turned his head to face him, beaming from ear to ear with a smile so genuine and so bright, “Of course!”

From just that sight alone, Iwaizumi felt himself fall into an indescribable haze. 

He felt the sudden urge to smell the perfume of infant flowers just in bloom. 

He wanted to lay down in a vast empty field of dandelions that seemed to coat the earth like snow in spring, blowing out an infinite number of wishes that God couldn’t promise. He wanted to brush the glistening clouds against his fingertips, shivering from the cold condensation to reassure he was alive. He wanted to run through the sea-foam of a bright, blue ocean, wondering what spring is like underwater. He wanted to know how that _feeling_ tasted on the very tip of his tongue. 

But until then, he was stuck wandering in a desert of uncertainty and hesitation; he was caught burning in a sandstorm on Mars, and even he knew that there were no fields of flowers on Mars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the second chapter! 
> 
> This one was slightly longer, but it was definitely fun to write—until we meet again in the next chapter... 
> 
> Signing off,  
> Lazymilk ㅇㅅㅇ


	3. Neptune

He’s drowning. 

Arms stretched as far as they could with fingers flexing and pulling on every single fiber of taut muscle he could feel underneath callused skin towards something that kept moving farther and farther away from him… 

Squinting his eyes, his mind could only process what appeared to be a hazy silhouette, like a figure in the background of an impressionist painting; it was someone who felt…familiar.

He opened his mouth and tried to call out but to no avail as only a stream of bubbles escaped his lips and disappeared into the abyss; his body tensed as he began to feel the freezing temperature of the ocean pierce his senses and noticed what had just been a sliver of light was growing dimmer and dimmer—he slowly sunk as if his feet were tied to a boulder. 

The brunette was completely surrounded in a lonely darkness and could only imagine himself as a stranded explorer at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, but before he could slip away—eyes growing heavier by the second—a hand suddenly appeared before him and reached out as if to grab his face. He was met with stunning, stormy eyes of someone who he just couldn’t place a name to.

He attempted to speak again, but this time the stranger covered his eyes and softly whispered into his ear. 

Oikawa dreamt he met a mermaid.

He awoke to the continuous vibration and buzzing of his phone notifications going off, but after promptly muting his phone, he turned around in his bed, buried himself further underneath the silky duvet, and slipped away into a deep slumber once more. 

-

Eyes shot open with a sudden realization; he reached for his phone again and almost knocked it from his desk. 

_Yo, Shittykawa?_

_You up yet?_

_Hey_

_?_

_I hope you realize exams start today…_

_…_

_Well, guess you’re just gonna fail then_

_It was good knowing you o/_

Checking his phone, the last message from Iwaizumi had been sent five minutes ago. 

“Shit.”

Oikawa quickly sprung out of bed. His legs drunkenly swayed as his whole body was still heavy from sleep, and his mind was slowly rebooting to calculate how fast he needed to get ready in order to arrive in time before the school gates closed. 

One hand held a mint-colored toothbrush in his mouth while another frantically combed through his tangled bed-hair. Spitting out foamy toothpaste residue into the sink and splashing water onto his face, he looked into the mirror but could only see a blurry image of himself.

His mind finally sobered and settled on: _pretty fucking fast_.

Oikawa ran back to his room, bumping into the door as he hurriedly got changed and fumbled to button his uniform. He swiftly swung his bag over his shoulder as he quickly made his way to the foyer, slipped on his loafers, and rushed out—bursting into a full sprint with his bag harshly beating against him. 

-

“Sooo…I see someone decided he wants to graduate.”

Sitting at his desk with notes out to review, Iwaizumi turned towards the other student who had just entered the classroom still panting and gasping for air with his back bent over and hands on his knees. The boy had made it with just minutes to spare before the first period’s exam was to be issued.

He raised an eyebrow at Oikawa, noticing how the other’s brown locks were messier than usual, his dress shirt wasn’t buttoned up all the way—with some not even in the right hole—his red tie hung loosely over his neck, and his face was flushed pink—the shade lightly dusting his neck and traveling underneath—

Iwaizumi stopped his trail of thoughts, feeling his ears grow warm. 

He cleared his throat, “You look like you just had a one-on-one match with Ushijima—”

Straightening his back and trying to fix his uniform, Oikawa composed himself and walked over to the other with cheeks puffed out like a hamster as he pouted.

“Iwa~” he whined, “why didn’t you call me?”

Said-person scoffed, “Hey, be glad I even bothered to text you. Why didn’t you just get your mom to wake you up?”

The setter sighed while running his fingers through his hair, “She had to go to work early, but besides…” a mischievous grin plastered his face, “you’re practically my mom, I-wai-zu-mi” He playfully punctuated each syllable.

“Yeah? Then I’m a mother to a disappointment—”

“HEY!”

“SSSHHH”

Oikawa turned his head towards another peer who had a deadly look of annoyance. Taking in his environment for once, he realized almost the entire classroom was quiet with students fervently preparing for the multitude of tests they were about to take.

He gave an apologetic smile as he walked over to his own desk and sat down, pulling out an array of notebooks from his bag. 

Iwaizumi had returned to staring at the same page for the sixth time— his brain unable to soak in any more formulas or information—before he felt a certain someone tapping at his shoulder. 

“Psst, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispered, “how do you think you’re going to do?” His notebooks hadn’t even been touched, and a single, red, mechanical pencil was now behind his ear; it was the image of someone who simply couldn’t care less, and Iwaizumi felt mocked. 

He tried to convey his irritation through an overly-exaggerated, cold glare, but quickly gave up after seeing the other boy simply waiting for a response, unaware of the other’s stress.

“I don’t even know why the teachers thought it’d be a good idea to put us next to each other… ”

“Oh, that’s ‘cause I asked—” the setter chirped. 

“You what now?!”

The school bell rang, announcing the start of exams while also muffling Oikawa’s surprised yelp from Iwaizumi kicking him in the shin. 

As people broke away from their study groups to return to their desk and to greet the teacher, Iwaizumi’s attention paned over to the setter who was now frantically rustling through his book bag, taking out all his journals and binders until he was practically sticking his head in.

“What are you looking for?” Iwaizumi whispered, trying not to disturb the class again, but he was ignored by the other who appeared to be growing more and more anxious as the seconds on the clock loudly ate away at the boy.

“You’re making a ruckus.” 

Oikawa eventually put all his stationary back into his bag, shoulders slumping.

“I can’t find my glasses.”

Iwaizumi didn’t know whether to laugh or to smack the boy for being as irresponsible as he was.

“How do you even forget to wear your own glasses,” Iwaizumi’s voice became louder in disbelief, “like how do you not realize you literally can’t see—”

“Iwaizumi.”

The student snapped his head up to make eye contact with a rather stern look on the teacher’s face, her hands holding a blue testing manual.

“I know you’re better than that, so do try to listen and pay attention without interrupting the class.”

He felt his face heat up, “Yes, ma’am.”

Iwaizumi continued to face forward before his eyes were drawn back to his childhood friend who, despite having his head resting on his hand and a listless look on his face, noisily bounced his knee against the leg of the desk—causing the whole thing to shake like an earthquake.

_I bet he can’t even see the damn board._

Iwaizumi turned back to the teacher before a realization occurred to him. He reached for his bag and pulled out a sleek, black case.

“.. and please double check to see all electronic devices are brought up—and that goes for you too, Iwaizumi. That better not be a phone I see because you’re really testing my limits this morning.”

“Ah, uh…no.”

The older woman gave him a deadpan look. 

_Way to sound convincing._

“It’s a case...for Oikawa's glasses.”

Her eyebrows dipped dangerously low, frowning as she stringently declared to the class—but more to Iwaizumi, “And if I find or hear ANY instances of cheating…well, you know the consequences. Now, let’s begin, shall we?” She placed down the blue manual and proceeded to pass out the test packets. 

The ace quickly shoved the case to Oikawa and huffed, no longer in a mood focused enough to take an entire exam.

The brunette softly said his thanks before slipping on the spectacles, surprised that he could clearly see his surroundings.

“Hey, I didn’t know you wear glasses. And they seem to be the exact prescription as mine.” He whispered.

Iwaizumi felt a headache coming on which he knew would be the detriment to his academic well-being. 

“Tsk, I don’t, you dipshit. They’re yours, you gave me your extra pair at the beginning of the year in case something like this would happen, and thank God I’m organized,” Iwaizumi's eyes followed the teacher who began to walk towards their row, “now shut up before you get me into any more trouble.”

“Ah,” Oikawa meekly replied while rubbing his neck and adjusting the pair of black frames on his nose bridge. 

The clock continued its stiff rhythm, sounding as if it was decrescendoing and crescendoing as it came in and out of focus while the class began their finals—one more step towards graduation. 

_Less than a week until graduation, and three days after until Oikawa leaves for Argentina…_

_-_

“...to Iwaizumi. Earth to Iwa-chan, over!”

Iwaizumi shook his head out of a daze and found himself staring back at what appeared to be Oikawa’s attempt at an astronaut-impersonation accompanied with his lopsided smile, messy yet soft locks, and rich caramel irises… 

The boy’s hands cupped over his mouth, muffling his voice in order to achieve a noise distortion similar to that of a radio intercom. 

“Huh, looks like two consecutive days of testing have finally mentally exhausted Iwa-chan. Houston, we have a problem—what should I do? Looks like his life is slowly being depleted, over!”

_So exams are over, huh…_

What had just been two days felt excruciatingly prolonged, as if the second-hand on the clock was struggling to push against an invisible force and God had changed the settings on life to slow-mo just to mess with every high schooler in existence. 

Realizing school had just been dismissed, Iwaizumi lightly pushed the other away and began to pack his belongings; standing up after sitting for so long felt like a sudden chore, but he instantly felt more relaxed after stretching his arms and legs while cracking his shoulders and knuckles. 

He absentmindedly began for the classroom door, letting out a sigh of relief once he walked into the bustling hallway but failed to notice he was forgetting something—or someone—whose face changed to one full of confusion.

“Hey!” Oikawa ran out to catch up to the other, “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten our plan for today.”

With thoughts only filled with what he was going to have for dinner and the warm bath he would happily soak in for an hour, Iwaizumi didn’t even try to acknowledge the setter.

Oikawa waved his hand in front of his friend’s face, which seemed to snap him back into the present; his eyes widened, becoming alert and aware. 

“Huh, what?”

Oikawa bit his lips, feeling flustered all of a sudden and overcome with a wave of hesitation—embarrassed to be in the middle of the hallway while asking, “Are… are we still planning to go to the beach… or, uh… maybe you already made plans beforehand… ?”

Iwaizumi simply gave a blank stare, causing the brunette to hang his head down low—trying to hide his flushed face, “I mean, we can always go tomorrow or something. I guess we never specified when exactly we’d go after exams ended,” he said more quietly, “...we can rain check if you want…”

Unbeknownst to Oikawa, Iwaizumi was still processing the answer to question 32 before his thoughts were interrupted by a blaring, red siren that seemed to go off in his head with “PLAN” and “BEACH” in all caps as his brain worked on overdrive to take in bits and pieces of the one-sided conversation. 

“That’s today,” he muttered to himself. 

“What was that?”

Iwaizumi finally caught on and realized how badly he must have presented himself.

“Sorry, no—I mean yes, I’m free. We can go out,” his heart felt like it was doing aerobatics, “wait—” his mind wanted to explode as he loudly huffed and grabbed the other’s hand, tugging him outside without looking back to see his reaction, and, after carefully choosing his words, finally settled for “Let’s go to the beach, Oikawa.” 

-

After taking a short train ride and walking for almost two miles, the journey filled with questions of what the other answered for this problem or that, the two teens made it to the shimmering blue coast. The late afternoon sun shone on warm, creamy sand, making each grain sparkle like a treasure trove of golden spices hidden away in El Dorado. 

A salty sea breeze caressed their cheeks as the older athlete turned his head to face his friend but was only to be met with a picturesque sight of Oikawa’s eyes closed—deep breaths being inhaled while soft tresses danced around his face; Iwaizumi wished he could take a picture. 

The setter’s eyes suddenly shot open, meeting the others who swiftly averted his gaze; he looked ahead to the endless horizon and instantly felt guilt, that could rival that of a troubled canine, from being caught staring—but in the moment, Iwaizumi failed to notice how the younger merely smiled back fondly.

Trying to ignore the uncomfortably clanging against his chest, Iwaizumi leisurely started his way down the concrete stairs to the beach. Standing on the last step, the ace bent down to untie his shoelaces and proceeded to slip off his black shoes and socks before he heard thundering footsteps running down the stairs behind him that were approaching him quicker and quicker as the noise grew louder and louder like a textbook example of the doppler effect. 

Before he could even fully whip his head around, Iwaizumi was met with the sight of Oikawa leaping over him, skipping the last few steps with book bag and blazer in one hand while his shoes, socks, and tie were in the other; his trousers were rolled up to his knee and his white dress shirt was tied around his waist, wildly flapping from his brash movements as it loosely clung on—threatening to slip off. Iwaizumi was temporarily blinded by the sun’s glare; he refused to believe it was the sight of Oikawa alone.

Oikawa landed heavily in the sand, which puffed up in a flury around him, and tossed his belongings as if he was an American high schooler throwing his own graduation cap into the air; he continued to sprint towards the waves crashing onto shore. Fortunately for the two, the beach was less populated during the weekday, but the few passersby strolling nearby starred in question at the scene, making Iwaizumi blush and bring his hands up to cover his face in second-hand embarrassment. 

However, running full speed ahead without stopping, the setter jumped into the water and pushed through the rounds of waves until he was far enough from the shallow to dive under.

Looking from a distance, the hitter, now with feet bare and trousers rolled up, searched for a mop of brown hair to bob back up… and continued to wait, but the water made no signs of movement outside of its own great ripples. 

Agonizing seconds went by, and his fingers twitched by his side.

After seeing no signs of Oikawa resurfacing, a feeling of dread spread throughout his body,“Oi- Hey—”

He dropped his possessions and frantically sprinted towards the shore. He could feel his feet sinking into the burning sand with each heavy impact until his legs carried him into the freezing water—goosebumps racked his body, but he quickly recovered, ignoring the chills. Pushing against the crashing waves, Iwaizumi continued to swim out and was about to dive down until he was violently pulled under instead. 

The sudden rush of water up his nose and the sting of saltwater in his eyes caused him to wildly thrash and kick at whatever the source tightly gripping onto his ankle was. Despite the exponentially increasing panic, he knew he needed to calm himself down unless he wanted to lose all his breath, and, deciding to open his eyes, he squinted through the clear azure. 

With beams of sunray creating the illusion of light gracefully dancing underwater, he could make out what seemed to be strands of brunette hair floating by his face and a tint of Georgia peach stained lips turned up in a childish smile; he felt as if he was staring back at a beautiful siren who had lured him in without even needing to sing—the young man looked… ethereal. 

His lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, and, after being freed from the vice-like grip, he swam back up—with his partner closely following suit. 

Iwaizumi gasped for air, gulping it down like a fish out of water while savoring its sweetness. He continued coughing and treading in place until his eyes caught Oikawa breaking through the surface soon after him. 

The taller of the two beamed, ignoring the other’s pained look, and instead felt proud of having successfully pranked his friend. 

“You had me waiting so long, Iwaizumi,” he jokingly whined, “I almost thought I was gonna drown right then and there.”

Anger pulsed through Iwaizumi’s veins for having worried over nothing, “Well I almost DIED from you trying to save you!” He pushed his hair out of his face, “Don’t joke like that, Shittykawa.” 

Oikawa felt a light blush dusting his face, “Yeah, yeah… ”

He began to swim back to shore, leaving the other behind, and walked out of the water; his pants and shirt heavy from being soaking wet. He picked up his belongings scattered across the beach before situating himself down to lay in the sand—basking under the golden light.

 _We should’ve brought our bikes to ride, or better yet a volleyball_ , Oikawa thought to himself in regret.

Iwaizumi begrudgingly walked to the other boy, but—not wanting to further ruin his already ruined hair with sand—decided to simply sit with his knees to his chest. Drops of water dripped down from his spiky, black hair and painted the coarse grains a darker shade. 

“Hey,” Oikawa broke the silence, “do you remember that Roman mythology we used to obsess over as kids?”

Iwaizumi looked over to the other who had his eyes closed—making him look as if he was peacefully sleeping, “Which one? There’s like a million of them.”

“It was about that sea god—the Greeks called him Poseidon, but the Romans called him Neptune—like the planet.”

“...” The ace couldn’t follow where the conversation was heading.

“Do you think there’s really a being like that somewhere out there?”

Iwaizumi didn’t know how to respond. They had both grown out of their geeky obsession and were taught those mythologies were nothing more than that—mythologies. 

“I mean, the sea’s so vast,” the setter continued while raising his hand to point towards the ocean, “we don’t even know everything that’s down there—let alone what’s buzzing in Neptune-town up there,” he pointed to the sky.

“Mhmm,” his companion hummed while becoming drowsy from the sound of seagulls squawking in the distance. The low rumbles of waves crashing to shore before rolling back, pulling the sand with it and uncovering new shards of shells and marine life, was nothing short of soothing. 

He turned to look back at Oikawa who had become silent and couldn’t help but stare at the sunkissed tan that started to lightly dust his skin. Compared to the wide range of emotions which the teen typically expressed from determination to curiosity, Oikawa’s face looked peaceful and relaxed—the sun highlighted his boyish features. Iwaizumi’s heart skipped a beat, and he turned away—unsure of the feelings swirling through his mind. 

He leaned his head on top of his knees, noticing how the other’s chest rose and fell to a steady rhythm—he was asleep. 

The wing-spiker turned away again and abrasively rubbed his wet hair as hesitation and confusion over what his mind was wanting him to do left him feeling vulnerable even though Oikawa was the one completely passed out.

He debated back and forth with himself over what his feelings were for his friend, and shyly glanced at the boy once more. He unconsciously brought his right index and middle finger towards his lips, pressed them with a soft kiss, moved his arm over to the brunette—allowing his fingers to briefly hover over unaware lips—and lightly pecked them with his digits.

Realizing what he had just done, Iwaizumi pulled his hand back as if he was just burned, and hid his face—pressing his cheeks against his knees as he curled himself into a ball—in order to hide the blush spreading from his ears and cheeks down to his neck; he blamed it on his skin being more prone to getting sunburns. 

He could hear his own heart loudly beating and could only hope it wouldn’t wake up the sleeping teen. 

Unbeknownst to his ace, Oikawa was still awake and slowly brought a hand up to brush over his lips. An indescribable feeling blanketed his mind, but it wasn’t an unwelcomed one.

He breathed in deeply—taking in the salty scent of the sea mixed in with the familiar scent of Iwaizumi seated next to him. As he bathed in the radiant, orange chrysanthemum in the sky that was soon beginning to set into a blaze of vibrant hues, he made a small prayer to Neptune—thanking the god for blessing them with an ideal day; he truly wanted to stay here forever, even if that meant they were but two insignificant, little specks barely making a dot in the expanding universe. 

He peeked open his eyes, revealing pools of honey, and made one final request to the god...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... 
> 
> And there you have it—the beach scene that no one asked for, but make it extra cheesy with a side of sappiness. 
> 
> I apologize for the unannounced semi-hiatus; I've been having a major case of writer's block and a lack of motivation, but I really do hope I can finish this work—so, until we meet again in the next chapter...
> 
> Signing off,  
> Lazymilk ʕ￫ᴥ￩ ʔ


End file.
